


Final Battle

by Moonsault, orphan_account



Series: Three Tres Bien Amigos [6]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Magical Realism, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 02:22:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10479954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsault/pseuds/Moonsault, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In New York City, Kevin and Generico are about to face the Young Bucks for Final Battle 2009--and Kevin says he'll quit Ring of Honor if they lose.





	

El Generico’s memory isn’t great. It has holes and blanks and areas of wavering fog in it. But he has two memories that he holds onto, that keep him going when times are hard.

Neither of them involves walking through icy December slush in New York while listening to Kevin and Sami arguing ahead of him.

He can’t quite understand the words they’re saying, but he doesn’t need to, he can read their bodies and their voices. They’re worried, and angry, and Kevin is huddled in on himself as if he’s thinking about breaking and running away from them, and Sami is yelling at him, distress etched in his hands and the line of his back and the way his feet hit the ground.

Generico steps in a puddle and icy water soaks into his sneakers. He shivers. “So _frio,_ ” he whispers to himself. It’s always so cold, it feels like he’s been cold forever. He blows on his numb hands and summons up one of his warm memories: the hot sunlight, the scent of sagebrush. Safety and hope and light and the almost-remembered voice that says _We love each other, and that’s all that matters, right? Enjoy this moment and let the future take care of itself._

Generico wants to do what the voice says, but this moment is not very enjoyable. This moment is, to put it plainly, _muy_ shitty.

Sami grabs Kevin’s arm and tries to twist him around to face him, but Kevin yanks away. He glares at Sami, baffled and furious, and there’s so much hurt and hatred in his eyes that Generico runs forward to get between them before he realizes that the hatred is all turned inward. 

For now.

“Tell him!” Sami yells at Generico. “Tell him he can’t quit!”

Generico stares at Kevin. 

“You’d both be better off without me,” Kevin says. “I’m just holding you back.” He shakes his head. “If we don’t win tomorrow against the Bucks, I’m fucking done. I can’t stand it anymore.”

He whirls and limps off, leaving them both standing shivering on the sidewalk.

“We win,” Generico says. “I promise, Sami.”

Sami puts his arms around him and buries his head in his shoulder. “That fucking idiot,” he snarls into Generico’s coat, and Generico holds him and pats his back as he shakes.

By the time they get to the hotel, Kevin has booked a separate room and disappeared into it. He doesn’t respond to their tapping, or their knocking, or their pounding on the door.

* * *

El Generico does not like the Young Bucks. They’re flippy and energetic and cruel, and Generico watches them pose in the ring and realizes that they might end Kevin’s career and he dislikes them very much. Because for all of his promises, Generico knows they could well lose this match. Kevin is hobbled by his bad knee, his motions painful and ponderous, and the Bucks are fast and young and merciless.

They shake hands in the middle of the ring and Matt yanks Kevin close; over the sound of the crowd Generico can hear words like _dead weight_ and _useless,_ said with a sneer. Kevin steps forward and shoves him, but lets Generico break it up and goes back to his corner.

“You start,” he says, his voice utterly flat, and it’s so unlike Kevin that Generico doesn’t know what to do for a moment. Kevin looks at Generico and there’s no hatred in his eyes; they’re soft and sad, as if he’s saying goodbye. Generico finds this more terrifying than when he was angry. 

He fights, he fights as hard as he can. He can’t bear to think of what will happen if they lose. If the world is cold now, what will it be like without Kevin? 

Kevin’s hand is out, asking for the tag. Generico hesitates. Kevin looks at him and Generico sees the pain in his eyes: _Let me have my pride._ Generico tags him in, aching, and Kevin limps into the ring.

He fights well, as always, but then he comes down hard on his injured knee and Generico sees agony flash across his face as he comes to rest in a heap against the ropes. Matt holds out his hand to help him up, bright and young and condescending, saying “Need a hand, Kev?”

Kevin looks at him for a long moment, then takes his hand and let himself be helped up, and Generico feels anguish slice through him before Kevin cuffs Matt across the face, and the worry ignites into fierce hot relief. His Kevin isn’t gone, his Kevin’s still fighting. 

They tag in and out, going back and forth, but Generico can see that Kevin’s wearing out, he’s winded. There’s a tightness in his face, a tentativeness in his movements. He stands at the turnbuckle and takes deep breaths, looking shaken, uncertain. Generico doesn’t want to tag him back in, doesn't want him to to risk further injury. But when Kevin puts out his hand for the tag, Generico has to try to get to him. He has to.

The Bucks hold him back, he can’t get to Kevin, they’re so _fast_ and Generico is so worried. He can’t make the tag, they drag him back to the center of the ring and kick him until he can hardly breathe, can hardly stand. He can hear Kevin yelling at the crowd to sing, climbing onto the turnbuckle and imploring them, his voice cracking. The crowd is unnerved by this unfamiliar sorrowful Kevin, but they sing anyway, lifting their voices in the familiar melody. 

Generico hears it through the pain; it’s beautiful, it’s magic, it’s an echo of his second memory, the one with the people singing. In the memory there are so many of them, a number so large he doesn’t know the word for it in any language, and he is filled with joy and triumph. The hope and passion in this crowd touches that memory, kindling it into flame, and he struggles to his feet and makes the tag.

He’s almost starting to believe they’ll win when he and Matt spill out of the ring over the ropes, and Matt takes the opportunity to slam him up against the barricade.

The world goes hazy with pain. He can’t breathe. He hears the crowd react as the Bucks do their finisher, hears them gasp when Kevin kicks out of it. He hears the impacts as they kick him, over and over and over, and he struggles to his feet in desperation and gets into the ring just in time to see the referee’s hand strike the mat the final time.

_No._

Kevin looks at him. There are tears in his eyes and blood at the corner of his mouth, and no hope anywhere in his face. It’s as if all the light that made Kevin _Kevin_ has gone out. He gets to his feet and asks for the mic and starts to speak, limping around the ring. He’s sobbing. The audience rustles uneasily, then starts to realize he’s saying goodbye.

Language chokes in Generico’s throat and nothing comes out. He watches Kevin thank people, his face drawn with pain and resignation. Generico doesn’t know what to say. This can’t be happening. He tries to summon the memory of sunlight, the memory of singing, but he’s cold and the audience is still with shock.

Kevin turns to him and says “And to you, I want to say--” and Generico throws himself into his arms as if somehow he can hold all the pieces of Kevin together.

They stand there in the middle of the ring, and Generico can feel Kevin’s body shaking, shaking as though the shadow in him is battering at the walls of his ribcage. Generico feels Kevin’s brave strong flawed heart fracturing, and he knows.

He knows that when he lets Kevin go, when he steps away, the shadow will overflow and everything will be ashes and loss. When he lets Kevin go it will all be over, and he doesn’t have the words to heal his heart, he only has tears.

El Generico holds on to Kevin. He calls up his memories. He remembers sunlight, and a beloved voice. He remembers the sound of singing and the feeling of triumph.

And then he lets the sunlight and the singing go.

He starts to let Kevin go.

* * *

There’s a sudden motion, a startled noise from the crowd. Blinded with tears, Generico sees only a blur out of the corner of his eye, and then there’s another set of arms around him, around both of them.

Sami is in the ring with them, shaking with fury, his arms wrapped around Generico and Kevin, clinging to them both. He’s in the ring with them. All three of them together.

“Don’t you dare!” he yells at Kevin. “You don’t go anywhere without us, do you hear me?” His body is solid and warm as a bridge, as real as a bridge that could let you cross the coldest water safely to the other side. Generico stares at him, staggering.

Sami gathers them both close and screams toward the back:

“We quit!” 

Generico hears Kevin inhale sharply.

“We all quit, do you hear me?” Sami yells in an ecstasy of renunciation. “We’re staying with Kevin. Right, Generico? _Right?_ ”

“ _Sí,_ ” Generico gasps. Sami has given him the words, and they’re beautiful words. “We quit. We stay with Kevin.” 

Kevin is staring at Sami. There’s wonder in his eyes, and a light that could drive out any darkness. “Oh,” he whispers.

Generico starts to laugh, surprise and amazement kindling into pure delight. Sami smiles at him, and Generico realizes he has no idea what he’s done, he has no idea what he’s averted. Kevin’s face is startled and vulnerable, untouched now by even the memory of shadow. They’re all in the ring together and Generico can’t stop laughing.

After a moment, Kevin starts to laugh too, and soon all three of them are propping each other up and staggering about the ring, unable to stop.

Colt Cabana is on the apron, his face blank with horror. “You can’t quit!” he yells at them. “You can’t throw your careers away! You can’t!”

Generico can do anything he wants, and to prove it, he dances over to Colt and kisses him soundly. Then he and Sami help Kevin out of the ring, all three of them giggling, ignoring the confused and annoyed crowd. At the curtain they turn around and look at the Ring of Honor audience for the last time. Sami and Generico wave; Kevin cheerfully flips them off. Generico feels Kevin’s body shaking with laughter. He feels Sami’s hand clasping his shoulder, and he looks at his brother’s good strong kind face, and he knows in his heart and in his bones:

In a world with Sami Zayn in it, anything-- _anything_ \--is possible.


End file.
